“What’s up?!”

The inevitable question I used to answer in oh-so-many different ways. It’s not my favorite question; it’s occasionally more of a statement, and I don’t always want to share the answer.

• With close-friends: it’s a phone call or shared in-person.
• With other friends: SMS or instant message.
• To all others: a blog post.

ABOUT ONCE A WEEK, I’D HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO SUM-UP AND SHARE my life events, stories and work in the form of a blog post. If I had something particularly-important, I’d even cross-post. I enjoyed the recaps, the feedback, the small, semi-insignificant validation that my life has meaning…

this is all in the past.

Now, the web-elite has microblogging; this simple 140-characters-or-less pleasure is significant mental-masturbation, and the death of the “what’s up.”

The process is not only simple, it’s accessible and always-on. (Well, maybe not Twitter… but some microblog is going to be up!) These services can be updated via instant message and SMS; from a PC or a phone, friends, family and others can follow, get notified and update. Almost anything can warrant a change of status: going to the grocery store, standing in line for a movie or a club, meeting someone famous, having the rare opportunity to hang out with Bradtastic… and with a microblog, the whole world could know it.

Not that the whole world would (or should) care. Regardless, these services are so integrated and “status” is so heavily-prevalent, many people are likely still unaware that they’ve bought-into the trend. Myspace has it, Facebook has it… instant messengers have it.

 
Several times last month, I sat at my computer, staring at a blank page, wondering why I couldn’t blog about my life. I finally realized, and it was so simple: I already had.

I sometimes do ugly stuff when I’m feeling sick, and I’m past my limits to tolerate the pain I’m always stuck with… I feel bad about it, but when I can’t sleep, can’t eat and can barely move

life then, just doesn’t feel worth living.

DURING THE BETTER TIMES I’ve experienced some of life’s great pleasures and wonderful experiences. I’ve met some of the most interesting people, some beautiful women with wonderful personalities and gorgeous character. During these times, I’m still in pain but I feel great; I’m in my element and it shows.

I love having people come up to talk to me, a group of women during “girl’s night out,” ignoring the groups of men and the pairs of guys (trying to pretend they’re too cool and not interested.)

The guys gawk and can’t understand how this tall, thin and possibly frail, injured, flawed, long-haired, dark-sunglass wearing Asian is getting all of this attention.

I hear “is he famous?” “I think he’s a model,” “I’ve seen him before, he was with that blonde, remember her?” It’s all in the distance… they’re too-timid to move into my territory. I’m clearly under the social-spotlight, and I enjoy the adoration. I don’t own the club, bar or venue… I do however, during these moments, dominate the ground I stand on and wouldn’t want it any other way.

I want to share these joyous memories

I want to document them; without actually seeing it happen, many can’t understand, appreciate or even believe that these stories are true. During these good times, I’m not looking for sex. I’m not looking for love… I’m finding company, personal connections. I’m entertaining and being entertained, it’s as if my soul is taken care-of by these events. The flattery is a welcome ego-boost; arrogant as I am, I know my flaws and I know my weakness…

I know that at almost any-moment, without warning, I can be stripped of it all and I’ll be sent spiraling-downward,

forced to deal with tremendous pain and the agony of defeat brought-on by my condition—no outside force is ever so irrevocably damaging as the side-effects of narcotics and the withdrawal symptoms from not taking them as the mere-shell of the deeper damage, trauma, mixture of physical and emotional pain…

…slowly seething, swirling in a brew, the eventuality always similar or same: I’m going to hurt. It’s really going to hurt.

I’m lucky to have a few great people, willing to sacrifice so much time and energy to help me feel a bit better. It must be difficult to put-out so much with prior-knowledge that no amount of effort will ever FULLY alleviate my suffering. It can be a disappointment to try so-hard and never fully succeed or accomplish one’s goal… this I know.

This, to the great ones who’ve helped me, and continue to help me through: I love you, so very much. Thank you.

A long time ago, I wrote the basic rules of my “art of impression,” and because of the “pickup artist” phenomenon and my opposition of all-things “fast seduction,” I’d intended to revisit the subject, make refinements and additions to it, and re-release it. And it would be “Brad’s book, number one.”

Real life happens, however, and sometimes gets in the way.

With the help of dedicated friends and supporters, I’d formulated rough guidelines and rules governing successful interactions. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what to call it, so or the sake of simplicity online, it was “Bradtastics.” There’s a few group pages under that name… my short-term goal is to consolidate that material, but there’s so much of it. Within a few quick months, 89 discussions and one dozen pages, most of it is conversational.

At the moment, I’m leaving everything where it is; if you’ve missed any (all) of it, you can view the different sites, take-in the content, and even add to the discussions. Some of the material isn’t particularly well-written, and though it might make sense to just move on, bits of the content is too important to me to pass up.

I will redraft, rework and repost the entries, comments and tidbits of importance to the art of impression, as well as anything of significant-interest to others in the past. To be completely honest, writing about relationships and interaction for a blog is much harder than I thought it would be… but I’m aware of the importance of the issues and can’t wait for the published book to start sharing.

Also: if you’d like to start-up a discussion with me or my psychologist-buddies… just ask!